Bus Stop
by TJ Robinson
Summary: One-shot. “Bus stops have, and always will be, mysterious places... the feeling of waiting with strangers... but sometimes strangers have a familiar face, and fate intervenes to solve the problems of the past.”


A/N: This story is probably one of the most profound things that I never meant to write. But it's here, so why not post it?

Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers apply.

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**Bus Stop**

Bus stops have, and always will be, mysterious places. Forbidden mysteries hidden deep within one's experiences at a bus stop, the feeling of waiting with strangers for a common goal: get the bus. Somehow a person can feel a connection with the others, sort of an invisible line tying them together. But sometimes strangers have a familiar face, and fate intervenes to solve the problems of the past.

I wouldn't have called myself lucky for seeing him again, but I can't say it all went bad either. Sure, after 20 years people don't recognize someone right off the bat, but 20 years is a long time… and things change after a while. I had just been waiting for the bus to get home. It wasn't a great night; a small drizzle had started and I rushed under the overhang where the new bus stop sign had been forced into a cement grave, where it would await the vandalism it was destined for.

Not many people were on the streets at the time; I worked night shifts at the hospital and so I was used to the empty streets of the suburban town. I took a seat on the bench to wait for the bus, and was soon joined by a man wearing a hood over his head. A breeze had started and I pulled my jacket closer to my body, but the man shivered as the wind cut through his thin rain coat.

Figuring he needed it more than I did, I took off my jacket. "You wanna wear it? I'm not really cold right now."

But I was cold, and I tried as hard as I could not to shiver. The man shook his head, "No thank you. I'm quite all right."

The man looked at me. "You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?"

I shook my head, "I don't believe so, sir."

"Funny, I could have sworn that I have seen your face somewhere before…"

He stopped, and looked down. I was intrigued by the man, but his eyes had caught my attention the most. Purple. I had seen those eyes before, but my memory failed me on where. I tried as hard as I could to remember where, and then it hit me. I knew who the man was, where I had seen him, everything.

"Pharaoh?"

The man shifted his glance up to me.

A smile had appeared on his face, "It's been a while since anyone's called me that. Now I'm sure I've seen you before, but where?" He paused to think, then grabbed his head in frustration.

I put my hand on his shoulder, "My name's Raphael, and I'm ashamed to say we fought many years ago in a battle for the fate of the world."

A sudden hint of remembrance crossed his expression. "Raphael? Is that really you?"

He removed his hood, revealing the same spiked hairstyle he had almost 20 years ago. Nothing had changed about him, he hadn't aged, or at least he didn't show it.

"Raphael, it's been so long. You look … different."

I could understand what he meant. My hair that had once been a golden blonde now had streaks of gray. My wallet, once empty of everything but a few dollars, was now crowded with pictures of my children and cards of many sorts. My face, once as smooth and youthful as ever, now had frown lines etched into my forehead from the death I dealt with daily from being a hospital worker... a line of death that included my wife.

She had died from exposure to extreme cold. She had tried to save our young daughter from drowning in the unfrozen part of the creek behind our house 4 winters ago, and she died of hypothermia. I mourned for her death everyday, but even so, when I looked in the mirror my eyes glowed with the happiness brought to me by my three daughters.

I had changed in many ways, and I could sense a hint of wonder from the Pharaoh.

"What have you been doing with yourself, Raphael? We haven't seen each other in over twenty years, and I'm sure you don't work for anymore evil tyrants." The pharaoh laughed.

"I work night shifts at the hospital down the road, and I've been raising my three daughters by myself ever since my wife passed away. But besides that, I haven't done much else. What about you?"

The pharaoh answered quickly. "I'm a wanderer. Ever since Yugi's gone off to start a life of his own, I've had a lot of free time. So I've been wandering around, searching for... something. I just don't know what. It's quite sad to wander alone by yourself, but being alone can be a good thing too."

I felt pity for the Pharaoh, and I felt I had to do something for him. "Why don't you take a break from wandering? Stay at my house... just for a little bit at least."

The pharaoh sighed, and then smiled at me. "I would Raphael, I really would, but I can't. I'm on a mission to find that something and I'm not going to give it up until I find it."

In his eyes I saw regret, sort of a wishing regret that made me think that all he needed was a friend. This wasn't a Hollywood movie; there was no script, no actors or director. I knew what this was, and I was glad. Fate had brought us here to solve the problems of the past, and we hadn't done it yet. But we were so close, and I could see we understood each other, a silent understanding of the different lifestyles we led.

"Here." I took out a piece of scrap paper from my pocket and the pen I had put in my chest pocket.

"This is my telephone number. If you need anything, no matter where you are, call me. I'll answer the phone and without any hesitation I will come to help you. Think of it as an apology for the suffering I put you through in the past."

I bowed my head to him, "I'm sorry about what I did those many years ago. Please forgive me."

I saw tears form in his eyes, like he had been given a fortune from a stranger.

"Thank you, Raphael. But I have already forgiven you. The past is the past, but the future we will find ourselves heading on our own paths. Maybe our paths will cross and we will meet again, but now we must continue with the lives our fate has planned. Until we meet again... which I'm sure we will."

He flashed a quick grin at me, and then stood up.

The bus pulled up to the corner and he got on, not looking back into the past. The bus pulled away and he was gone, leaving me to sit on the bench alone in the rain. I stood up, leaving my coat on the bench just in case another traveler that came along was cold.

I started home, not seeing any point to sitting on a bus bench alone in the middle of the night during a storm. Thunder and lightening crossed the sky, rain poured down like mad tears from a lost maiden, and the wind mixed everything together like the world was one giant blender.

Even still, I kept a steady pace as I walked home. Eventually I found myself at the front door of my house, and I crept inside, closing the front door as gently as though it was made of glass.

The house was silent, and I was glad the girls hadn't been woken up by the storm. I took off my shoes and headed up the stairs, treading as lightly as possible so as not to disturb them. I slipped into my room and closed the door as quietly as possible, but a giant crash of thunder rocked the house and I heard screaming from the girls' room.

I went in and calmed them down, a major effort on my part, and after I got them settled I wearily walked back to my room. I turned on the light and I reached into my pocket to take out my wallet, but a note fell out. I picked up. On it was neatly written, 'To Raphael. I hope this helps.'

I unfolded it and read:

_Dear Raphael,_

_I have been watching over you for quite a while. I have seen you struggle to balance a career and raising a family, but somehow you have persisted. I hope this will make you life easier to manage. Please accept this as a gift for your kindness towards a lonely wanderer._

_Until we meet again,_

_Yami_

I realized the note was written on an envelope, and I opened it. Inside was a check for a hundred thousand dollars, and my heart almost stopped. A hundred thousand dollars... I had never seen that amount of money before, not even during my privileged childhood. I looked out the window of my room, and I swore I could have seen his face in the window, smiling at me. But as soon as he appeared, he was gone.

"Thank you Pharaoh. Thanks for everything." I placed the check on my nightstand and turned off the light, and that's when I knew everything would turn out fine.

I didn't have to worry about the struggles I would have to face in life. I would have to just take it day by day, no matter what the future held. I closed my eyes and saw whiteness, and the face of my wife. She knew I would be OK, too.

"Until we meet again... Yami."

This wasn't a Hollywood movie, perfect with no problems to face at all. I wasn't the perfect man, and my wife wasn't the perfect woman. All human beings had problems they had to fight, and I was no different. I knew there would be troubles along the road, but I was ready and willing to face them. I had caught a lucky break, but I had to stay strong and use what I had earned wisely.

This was nothing like Hollywood, not at all like the lies the movies cram into the public's unknowing minds...

...this was fate. Life is like a bus stop. You are the bus driver, and can pick others up in life. As the bus driver, you can give them a ride to where they need to go when they need it, but at the end of the day when your car doesn't start and you're having issues in life, that one passenger you helped out will show up and say...

"Wanna ride?"


End file.
